


entoMb

by 8ucky8arnes



Series: fragMents [18]
Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: AU after 2x10, Character Death, Depression, Everything Hurts, F/M, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not A Fix-It, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Team as Family, Violence, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, mentions of bipolar disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ucky8arnes/pseuds/8ucky8arnes
Summary: John remembered the old saying: you never hear the bullet that kills you.He knew that, at that moment, he was one of the unlucky ones.





	entoMb

**Author's Note:**

> As you might've read in the tabs, I have no idea why I even wrote this. This idea wouldn't leave me be so I wrote almost 4k words in two days and it was an emotional two days at that (I cried at least four times). So I apologize for the feels (heed the tags!) that this piece will no doubt bring, but let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Warnings of major character death, depression, suicidal thoughts, mentions of bipolar disorder, mentions of torture, and violence.

_“I’m going to hunt every single one of your friends and they’re all going to die.”_

John lifted his head, staring down the barrel of Jace Turner’s shotgun. He didn’t flinch as the gun was cocked and his ringing ears registered the sound of the bullet sliding into the chamber and he remembered the old saying: you never hear the bullet that kills you.

He knew that, at that moment, he was one of the unlucky ones.

John closed his eyes, the faces of all those he loved flashing through his mind: his mother, James, Marcos, Lorna, Gus, Sonya, Clarice…Their laughter, their smiles, their conversations, and their _love_ numbing the agony of the buckshot.

_I’m sorry._

He opened his eyes, staring down Jace as his finger tightened on the trigger.

_BANG!_

…

Lorna stood with Marcos and the Struckers, anxiously watching for them to exit the compound, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the knife. She’d been so focused on the front of the building, the sight of the back blowing out in an explosion of concrete, wood, and metal nearly had her stumbling back.

Caitlyn and Reed were screaming at Marcos as he looked through the binoculars when Lorna felt a strange coldness swept over her at the realization that she knew those powers. _Andy._ She knew just how devastating his anger could be, but this…

Something had gone wrong.

_Horribly_ wrong.

Without saying anything, she lifted herself from the ground and flew to the building faster than she’d ever done, propelled by a feeling she didn’t have a name for, ignoring the others calling out for her.

Setting her feet back on the ground, she was running through the compound when she heard the unmistakable sound of Clarice screaming and it was like a sucker punch to the chest because there was only one thing that…

She found the room, tucked into the back of the building that was now nothing but debris and came to the doorway. The sight had her nearly collapsing as a scream of rage, of grief, started bubbling in her throat. “No…”

Lauren was clinging to her brother, arms wrapped around him as he trembled while Clarice cradled John’s head in her lap, sobbing and screaming his name as her hands tried to shake a bullet-ridden body that was no longer moving. No longer _breathing_.

Lorna could feel the bullets in him, every _single_ one and as she came closer, her knees finally gave out as she reached his side, ignoring the blood soaking through her clothes as shaking hands rested over his silent heart. The stone skin was still warm…

_They’d been so close…_

A sob tore from her throat, metal rattling, “No…”

Electric green eyes met hers and the anger and the worry in them was gone, replaced by something that had no words. She was shattered. Empty. Broken. There was no point in being angry anymore and Lorna felt the woman’s grief slice through her like one of her own knives, cutting her open and leaving her to bleed out next to a man she’d owed so much to…

She looked down at his face, stiffening at the sight of his vacant eyes looking at her. A small part of her was waiting for him to blink, to come back to himself as though he’d only perceived an oncoming threat, that he was still alive because John couldn’t die. He couldn’t. It just wasn’t possible…

She’d had nightmares of this early on, during her worst depression phases, where her hands would pass through him and he would disappear, crumble and blow away like smoke, leaving nothing of him behind…

But unlike her nightmares, he was solid under her hand as she reached up to close his eyes. The gesture was automatic even though she knew the sight would haunt her for the rest of her life, an image seared into her mind that no telepath would ever be able to erase.

She tried to recall the last words she’d said to him, but the memories were distant, foggy…

_What did it matter now?_

She’d never be able to make it up to him. Not now.

Not ever again.

The coldness was suddenly replaced by an anger she hadn’t felt since she’d been taken by Sentinel Service, Lorna crumpling the weapon that had killed him with a wordless scream, the rest of the lights and electronics in the whole building exploding with bursts of sparks that had the others jumping.

She threw the ball of metal as far away as she could before turning back to face Clarice and almost hated herself for asking the woman to leave John’s side, knowing her own reaction if anyone had asked her to leave Marcos… “Can you…can you make a portal to the fence?”

A spark returned in her eyes, “I’m not leaving him!”

“We’re not.” Lorna’s forcibly calm voice cracked, “But we can’t move him on our own and...” she trailed off, looking down to find the gleam of his dog tags through the bloody remnants of his tank top as well as the small beaded pouch. Her eyes slipped closed. She needed to find his brother, contact his mother…“He deserves a proper burial, Clarice.”

Clarice visibly flinched, but somehow stood. “Lauren could you…?”

The girl looked so shell-shocked, glancing between her brother and Clarice and Lorna and John before she set her jaw and nodded. She squeezed Andy’s shoulders once as the portal opened and she stepped through.

Lorna steeled herself as Marcos and the Struckers came through, but it didn’t fully prepare her for their horrified expressions nor the heat that exploded from Marcos like a dying star as he fell next to Lorna.

“I’m…” he choked out, “ _lo siento, hermano. Lo siento.”_

She looked up, seeing Caitlyn clinging to Reed as she sobbed, the man meeting her eyes and was surprised at the steel in his gaze. Lorna knew she wouldn’t have to explain what she was asking of them and she was thankful for that.

“Could one of you find a…a long sheet of metal that I can use to…?” she trailed off again, looking down at John. A small voice reminded her that he had enough metal in him to…her stomach lurching violently, sick as the thought. “ _Please_.”

Clarice returned to her place at his head, resting her forehead against his.

Lorna didn’t have the heart to move her.

With the help of Marcos, they were able to create a sheet of mismatched metal from the torn apart building and equipment. Lorna was both saddened and impressed as Lauren lifted his body just enough for them to slide the metal underneath.

She turned back to Clarice, “Can you…?”

The woman stood, almost mechanically, and opened a portal directly into one of the jeeps.

Marcos squeezed her shoulder, “Can you do this?”

She nodded, “I have to.”

No one commented on her shaking hands or tear-streaked face as she lifted her friend’s body into the back of the jeep, Clarice sending the Struckers and Marcos ahead before turning to Lorna with a hard look that was betrayed by her own tears.

“So you gonna crawl back to the Inner Circle or what?”

“No.” Lorna was surprised by how resolute she sounded. She looked down at the ground soaked with his blood, blood that should’ve never been shed in the first place and she knew she wasn’t the only one blaming themselves for John’s death. “I can’t, not after…”

Clarice sighed, “He never gave up on you or Andy, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Lorna managed a hollow laugh, “he was stubborn like that.”

Her responding smile was brittle and broke apart with a choked sound.

Lorna wrapped her arms around the woman, allowing herself to crumble as well, if only for a moment. They couldn’t stay in this compound any longer and the thought of even being away from the others was painful, “We need to go, alright?”

Clarice swallowed thickly and nodded, opening a portal.

Marcos pulled her into a tight hug.

She curled her fingers into his shirt, soaking in his warmth for only a couple more seconds before stepping back and wiping the tears, finally noticing that he had put the Struckers in the other jeep. She watched Clarice climb into the back of the other. “What now?”

He cleared his throat, “We need to…we need to regroup. Get back to the scrap yard.”

Lorna nodded, “Okay.”

“And I…I need to go talk to Evangeline.”

She frowned.

“I know you’re not a big fan, but she can get us into contact with James.” Marcos knew, as well as Lorna, just how elusive the younger Proudstar was. The woman was one of the few who actually kept in contact with him besides… “He deserves to say goodbye to his brother.”

_Brother._

She shuddered at the word. “Okay.”

Marcos slid into the driver’s seat.

Lorna closed the passenger side door behind her, looking in the rearview where Clarice had drawn his head into her lap, her violet hair a curtain as she bowed her head, but she could still see the fingers running through dark hair and shoulders shaking with silent tears, still hear the broken whispers…

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed, “I didn’t mean all those things I said…I never meant to hurt you. I love you…I love you so much.”

An invisible knife twisted in Lorna’s stomach, her own fingers digging into her thighs as she bowed forward. It was like Clarice had pulled the words from her mind, drawing the grief and the guilt out of her.

_I’m sorry brother._ She wanted to say. _I didn’t keep our promise._

_I failed you._

…

Lorna spent nearly an hour pulling every single pellet from his skin one by one, even though she knew she could’ve pulled them all out a once. _It wasn’t like he could feel it anyway._ She shook her head, hating the thoughts even as she counted the pellets. It was like she wanted to torture herself with the number, to remind herself of what she hadn’t been there to stop.

Caitlyn stayed by her side until she was done, cutting away the ruined fabric and wiping away the blood with steady, gentle hands until only pocketed tan skin remained and Marcos, Reed, and Clarice came in shortly after to dress him in clean clothing.

The room was silent as Lorna tied the leather pouch around his neck and set them over his heart along with the dog tags. Shaking fingers lingered over the softness of the single eagle feather and the smoothness of the turquoise beads…

She stepped back into Marcos’ arms, her hand firmly in Clarice’s, the woman leaning into her side and staring at John with a hollow expression. Lorna couldn’t stop her eyes from following her gaze because, even in death, John just had this presence around him.

The Struckers moved forward to say their goodbyes, Caitlyn’s eyes shown with tears as she rested her hand against his cheek and combed dark hair from his face before pressing her lips to his forehead. “Thank you for protecting my family, for protecting us all. I hope you finally find peace, John. You deserve it.”

Lorna’s hand tightened in Marcos’ as Clarice sobbed.

Reed was silent at his wife’s side, but the tears spoke louder than any words.

Lauren and Andy were next, hand in hand, looking every bit like the kids they were.

Andy’s jaw was clenched so tightly it was a wonder the whole room wasn’t shaking and Lauren, like her mother, reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry we didn’t get there in time.” She swallowed back the tears, “But I promise you, John, you didn’t die in vain. We will continue this fight, just like you taught us to.”

Something in Lorna hardened at the words, remembering Caitlyn’s anger at seeing her children turned into soldiers. Now the woman was watching her children with an expression that was a painful mix of determination and resignation, gently pulling them away as they left the room.

Marcos pulled away, going to stand by John’s side, his head bowed.

Lorna had barely registered the prayer when a commotion sounded at the front of the building, drawing her knives as Marcos’ hands began to glow and she saw a flash of purple hair as Clarice came behind them.

The door swung open.

She immediately sheathed her knives at the sight of James Proudstar standing in the doorway, looking haggard and painfully young. She felt Marcos drawing Clarice back, explaining in a low voice what was going on and she too moved away.

It had been years since she’d seen James, shortly after they’d began building the Underground, she remembered his anger at his older brother and the fight that had broken out when John’s patience had finally run out. It was the first time she’d seen him truly angry…

“James…”

He held up a hand, walking over to his brother.

She watched him he place a hand on his forehead, murmuring words in a language John had rarely spoken. Lorna recognized the stiffening of his shoulders and the cocking of his head to the side and what it meant, something cold settling in her chest at the realization that he was seeing what had happened to John in his final moments…

James stumbled back, turning furious eyes on Lorna, “ _You_.”

Lorna shook her head as Marcos went to intercede. “James-”

“He died because of _you_!” His voice rose, even as tears trailed down his face, “That man saw you and Marcos and snapped. Said John was lying and shot him three times!” he stepped toward her until her back hit the wall, “My brother is dead and it’s _your fault!_ ”

He slammed his hands on either side of her head, the drywall cracking.

She flinched, more from the words than his actions. It was a confirmation of the words her guilty conscious had repeated over and over again since she’d stumbled into that room. She was a cause of her friend’s death.

John would be alive if it wasn’t for her. 

That coldness was spreading through her, filling her veins with ice and her mind with voices and whispers until she was frozen to the spot. She’d been teetering on the razor’s edge of losing her carefully maintained equilibrium and she could feel herself slipping.

Marcos opened his hands, nearly blinding everyone, “That’s _enough!_ ”

Lorna blinked, cleared the spots from her visions.

“Your brother wouldn’t want us fighting each other, you know that. If anyone’s to blame, it’s the man that pulled the trigger.” Marcos worked his jaw, glancing at John before tearing his eyes away. “So, can you tell us who did it?”

“Turner. One of the men said Turner.”

Clarice sucked in a sharp breath, swaying.

Marcos’ eyes flared gold and the metal in the room began to rattle, Lorna forced herself to calm down as the table John laid on shook. She swallowed back her scream, reaching past James to steady a suddenly ashen Clarice.

She should’ve killed him when she had the chance.

“I’m taking it you know him?”

 “Yes.” Marcos’ voice was cold despite the heat rolling off him in waves and his eyes were hard as he glanced at all of them in turn before settling on James. “He’s the head of the damn Purifiers and he’s wanted us dead for a long time. Can you help us find him?”

James’ expression shifted, “As if you had to ask.”

…

In the end, Jace Turner hadn’t stood a chance.

Lorna had taken the chains that had held John in that chair, wrapping them around the man and tightening them until he screamed. She felt Marcos, James, and Clarice behind her as she leaned forward, “Did you really think you would be able to get away with what you did?”

He struggled against the chains, eyes wide with fear.

“My brother…had this vision of the world,” James spoke calmly, despite the sounds of struggling and pain. His eyes, so much like John’s, seemed so fathomless as he crouched, full of so much anger, so much grief…“See, while you may have read his file, you never knew a fucking _thing_ about John.”

Lorna watched a shadow pass over his face.

“He lost more people than you will ever know and not once, _not_ once, did he take out that anger on others. All he ever wanted was to make sure no one else would ever feel that loss. To protect others from it…”

Clarice sucked in a sharp breath, Marcos drifting to her.

“And now I have to go back to my mother and tell her that her son is dead.” James’ smile was empty and cold as he leaned forward. “So congratulations, Jace. I’m sure your daughter will be proud of you killing innocents in her name.”

His eyes narrowed, “He wasn’t innocent…none of you are!”

Lorna had a knife in her hand before he’d even finished speaking, “He was. Unlike you.”

No one said anything as the blade sank into the man’s throat with a sickening _thunk_ or the spray of blood that followed. Lorna let the chains go, watching impassively as the body fell to the ground, lifeless as the pool of red grew…

She felt nothing in those seconds, not relief or disgust, just…nothing.

_“You’re not a killer, Lorna…this isn’t why the X-Men chose us!”_

John’s pleas hit her chest like a battering ram and she sucked in a sharp breath as the emotions flooded back, determined not to cry right now. She pulled the knife back into her hand, wiping it clean on rumpled bedsheets before sliding it back into its sheath, “You said there was no one else in the building?”

James nodded.

She turned to Marcos, “Burn it down.”

Clarice opened a portal to the parking lot and they all watched as the building went up in flames from the rearview mirror and Lorna wished she could feel anything other than the black hole in her chest, sucking in everything it could. Maybe she would be lucky and it would finally swallow her whole…

Clarice’s voice was brittle, “What do we do now?”

James was the one who responded, “Now we take my brother home.”

…

The red rock. The open skies. The blazing heat.

Arizona was everything and nothing like Lorna had pictured it.

It was beautiful and daunting in a way only nature could be and she could easily see John sitting next to her, tan skin glowing in the sunlight as the wind lifted his hair from the rolled down window…she shook her head as the jeep hit another bump and she felt Marcos squeeze her hand.

Clarice sat up in the passenger seat while James regaled them all with stories of his and John’s childhood. Her green eyes were still heavy with grief, but her lips twitched every now and then with the ghost of a smile.

He grew quiet and the jeep began to slow before finally coming to a stop.

Lorna barely had a chance to take in the home when an older woman ran out into the driveway and threw her arms around James and her stomach lurched at how hopeful she looked as she took his face in her hands and spoke to him, glancing at the truck like John was going to step out.

She could practically hear the woman’s heart shatter as she fell to her knees.

Clarice sucked in a ragged breath, bowing her head and Lorna suddenly couldn’t _breathe_ , a hand curling around her throat. She had to get out of the truck, away from Clarice and Marcos’ grief, away from the metal coffin that held her best friend…

The door swung open with a _bang,_ her knees hitting the ground in a cloud of dust.

“Lorna!”

_“Tell her that I’ll come back for her…and tell her she’s special.”_

She’d never felt Dawn’s absence from her so acutely until the moment John’s mother realized her son was never going to smile at her again, that she was never going to be able to hold him, hear his voice…

She was faintly aware of Clarice and Marcos at her sides, pulling her up to feet despite their own grief, but it wasn’t until she felt warm, weathered hands cup her face that she finally lifted her head.

John’s eyes stared out from the woman’s face, all kind warmth and concern. She glanced at Marcos and Clarice in turn, not looking the least bit phased at the rattling metal or Clarice’s eyes. She smiled sadly at them all, pulling each of them into a hug before finally stepping back. “Can I see my son?”

Lorna managed a nod, unlatching the back of the Jeep and lifting the long metal box with care onto the ground at their feet. She took a moment the follow the elegant and beautiful lines of the coffin Marcos had taken such care in making before trembling hands unlatched the lid and moved it aside.

The woman put one hand to her mouth she knelt in the dirt, the other reaching out with fingers almost hesitantly over his face that had remained remarkably untouched from the buckshot and when she finally touched his cheek, the tears broke free as she began murmuring words over and over again in that beautiful, old language.

Lorna should’ve turned away, the moment too raw, too _much_ for her to handle but she was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

She held Lorna’s eyes, looking next at Marcos and Clarice. “I know how dangerous it was for you all…to come here and I want to say thank you, for loving him, for bringing him home to us. We can lay him to rest with his ancestors and he will finally be at peace.”

The words were an echo of Caitlyn’s and Lorna swallowed back tears. She hoped they were both right. She hoped that he would finally, _finally_ be at peace now. After all the hell he’d endured, all the wars he’d fought, it was the least he deserved.

She tried not to think of the war _they_ still had to fight, of Reeva and the Inner Circle.

She looked over at Marcos, remembering the promise they’d made all those years ago, and straightened her shoulders. Lorna may have failed him in life, but she refused to fail him in death.

They would keep going, keep fighting, as he would.

_I love you, shilah…thank you._

Her eyes snapped down to John as his voice sounded in his head and she smiled for the first time since she’d stepped onto that compound. While she’d never taken much on faith, something in her _knew_ he would always be by her side, with Marcos and Clarice.

She looked back up at his mother, “He already is.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting Chapter 3 of Your Lonely Calls to Me sometime in the next few days!


End file.
